A Slayer's Samsara
by VampGirl
Summary: *UPDATED* Chapters 2 through 5 now up. Post-'The Gift,' Buffy enters another realm of existence. This chronicles Buffy's journy through her own Heaven.
1. Awaiting the Light

A Slayer's Samsara Chapter 1: Awaiting the Light 

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Written by VampGirl

Rating: PG

Pairing: Buffy

Disclaimer: Joss owns all rights to the Buffy & Angel characters; I don't.

Spoilers: Season 5 and "Bargaining, Parts 1 & 2" of Season 6

Summary: Buffy's journey into the 'afterlife' - this chapter opens with the end scene of "The Gift" and follows Buffy's spirit as she waits to depart this realm. The Scoobies are featured here to mainly show the difference between Buffy and her friends. Until the last chapter, the Scoobies will not be featured again.

Feedback: Please R/R and send it to the email addy above; it would be deeply appreciated.

Status: Finished!

* * *

When Buffy reached the top of the platform, her mind was racing. Dawn could not die; her friends - the world - could not perish tonight. Hurriedly, Buffy untied Dawn from the restraints. Blood flowed from Dawn's arms. Dawn was crying, trying to apologize as Buffy dragged her towards the stairs. Dimensional shifts commenced, with demons and a dragon crashing over the threshold. Buffy had to prevent the forthcoming apocalypse. Over Dawn's sobbing pleas, Buffy gave her final speech to her little sister:

_"Dawn listen to me. Listen. I love you. I'll always love you. But this is the work I have to do. Tell Giles I...I figured it out. And I'm okay. Give my love to my friends. You have to take care of them now -- you have to take care of each other. You have to be strong. Dawn. The hardest thing in this world is to live in it. Be brave. Live. For me."_

With determination, Buffy turned and sprinted over the edge of the platform, into the mangled electrical discharge that was powering the portals. With a flash of light, a sense of peace crept into her soul. Buffy then found herself watching from below as her mortal body retched above. She solemnly viewed her friends - Giles, Xander, Willow, Tara, Anya and even Spike - stare in stark disbelief as her human shell completed its journey down to a pile of lumber near the tower. Being closest, Giles approached apprehensively and gently placed two fingers on the side of Buffy's neck. Discovering no pulse, Giles sank to his knees in despair. Willow collapsed into Tara's comforting embrace, convulsing with deep sobs. Xander, carrying Anya, froze in his steps; Anya buried her grieving face into his shoulder. Spike - still sprawled on the ground where he had fallen - rolled his tear-streaked face away from sight.

Powerless, Buffy oversaw the aftershocks of her decision unfold. Her life's epilogue sped by. In Giles' car, her remains. Her house. Dawn, expressionless. Scooby Gang gathered - mourning, clouded whispers. Vaguely, Buffy overheard out of the din - hide death, Buffybot to cover, repeated calls to L.A. unanswered. Day raced into night, back into day. Secluded clearing. A grave dug by willow trees. A wooden coffin. Buffy - her soul - hovered alongside her earthly vessel. Dawn, tear-stained checks, stood with Giles' arm around her shoulder. Giles stared remorsefully down at the ground. A calm Anya supported a weeping Xander with her right shoulder. Likewise, Tara offered tranquil respite to a sniffling Willow. 

"_Please_," Buffy's soul begged out to them, "_please, don't grieve. I-I-I'm at peace. Xander? Willow? Giles? Guys, c'mon - be strong, for each other - please. I'm here and_-"

She realized it was futile; they couldn't see her, their grief-ravished expressions transfixed on what she had once been. No one else came. In what seemed to be only a second to Buffy, everyone vanished; the coffin buried. Day was no more, night had settled in.

In the moonlight, Spike smoked a cigarette. No tears. He raised a brown-bagged bottle up in front of him. "Ere's t' you, S-slayer," accompanied by a deep swig and a backwards swagger. Spike took another drag from his cigarette. "I won't let you down again...I-I'll protect her. Protect her betta this time. Got my word on that. My promise."

The blonde-haired vampire wiped away the tears with the cuff of his leather duster. In a burst of rage, Spike winged the half-emptied bottle at the nearest tree. A smashing of glass broke the silence in the remote clearing. Buffy observed in silence, his pain filtering over the void. In an instant, Spike retreated out of her sight. 

_Where was Angel? Had anyone been able to get through to Los Angeles? To Cordelia maybe? Would they tell her father? Would he care?_ So many questions raced through Buffy, but in an instant only one stood out and gave her reprise - _Nothing matters anymore. My work here has been fulfilled_. Buffy felt a burst of warmth from behind. Turning, Buffy observed a swirling vortex of ultrawhite light. A surge of peace and serenity flooded outward. Buffy glanced back but nothing remained. The light beckoned her. Her mom's voice? Buffy wasn't certain. Buffy stepped into the light, finally, at peace.

* * *

"I can't believe we did it." Xander broke the heavy silence that had transcended on the Summer's living room. "We buried Buffy in a box. In a spot that's hidden away from _everyone_. Oh, God, I still can't believe this is happening. She's really dead."

"Xander, please," begged Anya somberly, gently tugging on his arm. They sat alongside Willow and Tara on the couch. Dawn sat on the floor, resting her back on the couch between the two couples. Giles slouched in a chair near the window, sipping his glass tumbler of Scotch. Spike, inebriated, stretched out between two wooden chairs from the dining room table. All eyes focused on the living room floor.

"This isn't going to work," Xander continued, his eyes remained fixed on the floor. "We have to think of something different, 'cause this isn't going to fool the demony underworld for long, y'know."

"I agree with Xander. It is bizarre," concurred Anya, nodding matter-of-factly. "But it kinda is the **_only_** plan so I guess we gotta try it. Right?"

Anya threw an inquisitive glance around the room. No one responded. Anya shrugged, cuddling closer to Xander and wrapping her arms tightly around his waist. Silence settled in around the group as each weighted the plan in their heads. Giles pulled himself up in the chair, cleared his throat slightly and removed his glasses.

"If word were to get out," spoke Giles sternly, not meeting anyone's eyes, "if the underworld were to find out that Sunnydale - or the world, for that matter - was without an active Slayer, do I really have to remind any of you of the consequences that could ensue from that knowledge? We live on a Hellmouth. Or have you all bloody-well forgotten that?" Briefly, he gazed around the room to gauge the impact of his statement before continuing on. He slowly put back on his glasses. "Now. With that said, however, I agree with Xander and Anya insofar as this plan is not a permanent solution. Though, for the interim, I'm afraid it must do."

"I can't look at 'it'," interjected Dawn, weakly, staring at the carpet. "It's creepy and plastic and-I'm suppose to act normal around it? I'm thinking, not."

"Right there with you, Dawnster," echoed Xander, with a nod. "It gives me a pretty big case of the wiggins, too. When I see it, I flashback to it having sex with - well, you-know-who." 

"Oh, fag off, you bloody poof," slurred Spike. He attempted to flip Harris off but gave up when he found himself nearly falling off his chair in the process.

"Will," Xander pressed on, shaking his head in disgust from Spike's outburst, "we be attempting to reprogram 'bot sometime soon, yah? I **_really_** don't desire to inadvertently view any more Spike-Buffybot intimate moments, comprende?"

"Yah, I tried to start yesterday - wound up just surveyeing the sustained damage. Though I'm fairly confident in doing the programming, I'll be more concerned with inputs that directly effect everyday life for the moment - doing household chores, paying bills, registering Dawn at school, a less robotic use of the English language. Those items are essential to pulling this whole thing off. Unfortunately, whether or not it's betrothed to Spike - which we all agree is of the 'ewww' variety - doesn't rank as a high priority." Tara gently caressed her left shoulder; Willow gifted Tara with a slight smile. "I feel Giles is right. We just have to maintain some semblance of order here a-and not let this g-get to us, well too much. Bu...Buff-Buffy would want us to be strong."

"Willow, very astute as always," praised Giles gently. "I s'ppose we should all be getting home now. Dawn, do you wish to stay 'ere or-"

"Oh, me an' Willow are going to stay with her tonight. " piped up Tara meekly, "If that's okay with you, Mr. Giles?"

"Oh, of course, yes," Giles replied softly. "I wasn't aware, but that's fine. Well, I shall be going then. Anya, no need to open the shop-"

"What? No, no, no! Giles, you don't shut down a magic store in the wake of a major interdimensinal upheavel!" protested Anya.

"Anya, I'd sympathize - if I wasn't thoroughly exhausted from said event myself. I don't see what dire circumstances warrant us opening. A few days is all, a week at the latest - I swear," countered Giles.

"Not good enough. I understand we believe we rounded up all the demons that were released, but how can we be a hundred-percent certain? What if we missed one or two? And what about the hysterics and doomsayers that were rattled by the disturbances, huh? We have portions and charms that will calm their nerves. If they don't buy from us, there'll go elsewhere! We'll lose business, Giles; I'll lose my salary! Eventually, I could lose my job!" Anya begged tearfully to her boss.

"Just whose the boss 'ere?" Anya mouthed 'you' and added a hearty wide-grin. Giles sighed dejectedly. "Are you absolutely positive this is wise? You'll be able to open and close the-"

"Yes! I'll do it all!" gushed Anya happily. "Feel free to take as much time as you desire off from work. Rest assure - you won't regret this. A satisfied customer is a repeat customer - you'll see. Leave it me."

"Ahn, a little less on the happy please. We just buried her today, you know. I'm taking the next couple days off myself. Will, I'll call you tomorrow - 'kay?"

Willow nodded. All of them stood up, except Spike. Xander hugged Willow and Dawn. Anya embraced Dawn lightly. Giles gathered Dawn in his arms and softly kissed the top of her head. The group walked out to the main foyer area. Giles grabbed his coat and hastely exited. Xander put an arm around Anya, bid the others another 'good-bye,' then followed Giles out the door. Willow and Tara inquired if Dawn needed them for any thing, but she shook her head. The two witches embraced her, then climbed the staircase to the bedrooms above. Dawn went back into the living room, hoping Spike would still be there. However, he had ducked out the back door while the Scoobies had gathered at the front. Dawn sighed, and trudged unwillingly up the stairs to her room. It had been a long couple days for themall. Tomorrow they would all wake up and life would be unabated.

Buffy floated through the tunnel of light. Her friends' voices resonating still to her soul, but she could sense her hold on that world slipping steadily away. The light was fading now, opening into a void of darkness. The end to her journey was about to be revealed

To Be Continued...


	2. Bardo Commences

A Slayer's Samsara Chapter 2: Brado Commences 

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Written by VampGirl

Rating: PG

Disclaimer: Joss owns all rights to the Buffy & Angel characters; I don't - well, except for 'Bob,' he's mine.

Spoilers: Buffy/Season 5, hints at Angel/Season 3 ("That Vision Thing"/"Birthday"), but no outright spoilers.

Summary: Buffy's journey into the 'afterlife' - the journey to judgment begins in a strange new world. Buffy, led by her Guide - Bob, finds out where she is and her life is reviewed. After her review, her next destination comes as a not-so-welcomed surprise.

Author's note: _Bardo_ is the after-life journey of the spirit in Buddhist traditions. All the journey's incidents are considered purely subjective visions; the nature of these visions depends greatly on the beliefs held by the individual when alive. The various paradises, the hells and the Judge of the Dead appear to those who have believed in them. The journey is a series of subjective visions, a dream that the "spirit" weaves under the influence of past character and actions. It is believed that the "spirit" is dazzled by the sudden light - shrinks from it - and is pulled backward by one's false conceptions, attachment to individual existence and to the pleasure of the senses. Or else, the significance of what one has seen escapes them, just as a living person, absorbed by ones preoccupations, will fail to notice what is going on around them. During the _Bardo_, the deceased sees radiant apparititions and hideous forms, diversely coloured paths and many strange visions. All of these things frighten the spirit, bewildering and wandering randomly among them. 

Feedback: Please R/R and send it to the email addy above; it would be deeply appreciated.

Status: Finished

* * *

First, there was darkness - pitch black, silent. A burst of magnificent lavender light detonated in the distance. Emanating out, the shockwaves flooded all it touched with absolute tranquility. The intensity faded, bringing a new world to bear. A gale shriek of wind shattered the silence. It sounded out like nails pulled down a chalkboard. While the blinding light and clamor evaporated, a fresh frontier emerged.

The towering rugged gray mountains encircled a luscious green valley. Faint scent of lilacs saturated the air. In the indigo sky, wispy white clouds churned in swirling currents. Rushing water bubbled monotonously nearby. Gently tossed in the breeze, strands of grass tickled at Buffy's sides. The odd sky encompassed her vision as she became aware of her prone stance. Cautiously, Buffy rose up into a sitting position, swiftly noting she had form.

Buffy recorded her form was humanoid, covered with a loose-fitting ivory gauze dress and a sparkling gold sash wrapped around the waist. Dying to view her new existence, her senses caught the rustled babbling of a brook off to her immediate right. Buffy twisted her upper body to the water to glimpse a reflection. The image exhibited in the stream caught her by surprise.

"Wow. I-I'm glowing," Buffy whispered. Save the radiance, she observed little difference in her persona. "Hmmm. My hair's finally got an extra shiny to it but - hello, glowing."

"Sorry I'm late," sounded a masculine voice from behind her. Promptly, Buffy jumped up and spun around to face the intruder. A tall muscular brown-skinned demon, sporting a bony exoskeleton and a large silver ring pierced through his chin, grinned cheerfully. "Inter-dimensional traffic's quite jammed up recently. Are you - " The demon dug out a card from under his right breastplate armor and read from it. "Buffy Anne Summers?"

"Uh-huh," she nodded guardedly, "and you are?"

"Bob." A huge arm reached out; Buffy hesitantly accepted the handshake.

"Bob?" The demon acknowledged her echo with a slight nod. "Bob, the demon. Wow, didn't know there would be any demons...here. Where is 'here' exactly?"

"Heaven," he declared sardonically. Buffy raised her eyebrows in skepticism. "Well if you believed in that sort of thing any way. I mean, you could say Purgatory, Limbo, Celestial Kingdom, or Valhalla. Some prefer the Aether or Netherworld. Simply depends on which one affords you the greatest comfort. And lemme compliment ya on this fabo landscape, very natural."

"Wha...? I guarantee you I had nothing to do with this."

"Of course you did," he retorted with a shrug. "Seconds before the soul leaves its living shell, the Powers grab the individual's perception of what lies beyond and create a 'decease-friendly' environment for it. Always a shock - trust me. Never dealt with one yet that said - 'hey, dude, this is so the way I pictured it.'"

"If I in fact created this, why are you in it? Demons and Buffy didn't mix in everyday life, why would I conjure one up to spend eternity with me?"

"Ah, first, not all demons are evil - quite a few of us that perform excellent work for the forces of good. My brother Skip and I have devoted our lives to these gigs - helpin' out the Powers and trying to overturn that negative stereotype. Second, don't worry - I'm merely a guide - like Virgil to Dante."

"Who to whom?"

"'The Divine Comedy'? Virgil guided Dante through the multiple levels of the afterlife - never read it?" Buffy shook her head, softly scolding herself for avoiding English Lit classes. "C'mon, whadda they teachin' you kids these day - it's a classic. Well, never mind. Whadda you say we get this show on the road, huh? Walk with me."

"A guide that guides, how apropos," Buffy remarked sarcastically.

Bob, brushing off her retort, motioned her to follow him. The duo strolled towards a small dwelling previous unseen by Buffy. Upon closer scrutiny, the object cleared into a rustic cottage. Buffy noted the thatched brown roof and reddish cinder brick walls. The grass parted gradually to produce a narrow dirt trail, which meandered its way to the cottage front door.

"Bring back memories?" Bob questioned jovially.

Buffy took in the familiar structure several feet in front of them. A flashback hit her - she had been eight, the last summer trip to her paternal grandparent's cottage before their death, Dad teaching her to fish in the river in the backyard, Mom playing hide-and-seek among the trees that surrounded the property. However, something seemed amiss.

"Dawn-"

"Not there and won't be - until she was inserted into your life a year ago. Everything you see - past or present - is the real deal. No fake memories, no mystical interventions."

Feeling a tinge of sadness at the revelation, Buffy covered the remaining distance in silence. In life, Dawn was her baby brat sister, whom she loved and envied all at once. Here, Dawn's memory reverted back to an ancient energy created for her to protect. She had no idea what the 'mystical intervention' comment meant. The front door arrived; they halted. When Bob failed to open it, Buffy perked up with, "do I open it?"

"Uh-huh, but I'm obligated to warn you that any discovery made beyond it could be disconcerting." Buffy threw the demon an annoyed look. Bob raised his hands defensively, "just a vague disclaimer - I don't make the rules."

Buffy pondered the warning for a few seconds, than determinedly grasped the handle and pushed in the door with a shrilled squeal. The cramped single-roomed dwelling had little amenities. An exquisite oak table with two majestic high-back chairs sat in the center. On the left wall, four medium flat television screens hung in a row. Slayer artifacts displayed on the right wall - crossbow, quarterstaff, various sized daggers, broadsword, and the uniquely crafted stake Buffy recognized bore resemblance to Mr. Pointy. 

"TV?" Buffy pointed to the left. "Do I get cable or is it a transcendental medium?"

"Transcendental medium - that's funny," Bob chuckled a bit, then resumed his serious tone, "we'll use them to review - y'know, flashing your life before your eyes."

"My whole life?"

"Not everything - just significant moments. Here." Bob drew Buffy over to the closest monitor. "Let me demonstrate." With a wave of his hand, the screen came to life. A picture of Hemery High School flickered to view. Buffy observed her younger self, sitting on the front steps. "This is where it all started. The single point in time where your world changed and your true calling was revealed."

"What about before that?" Buffy objected vehemently. "I had a life pre-slayer. Cheerleading squad. Prom Princess. Fiesta Queen. My parents - happily married. You're telling me - none of that matters?"

"No, but..." Bob interjected gently, "those incidents are trivial - don't play in how you got here or where the rest of your future lies. Let's go on, shall we?"

Buffy regarded Bob bitterly for a second, but turned her attention back to the monitor as it flashed a series of pictures. Merrick. Her first vampire kill. Hemery High gym on fire. Her expulsion. Sunnydale. Xander helping her pick up her books. Giles showing her a book on vampires. Angel giving her a silver cross, followed by their first kiss. Willow doing research at the library computer. The Master biting her. Angel pulling her body out of the water. Xander reviving her. Kicking the Master through the library's skylight window, impaling him on debris below. The last shot framed her frightened expression as she stared at the Master's skeleton.

"That experience really brought the slayer gig home - if it weren't for your friends, you would have died that night. You shoulda gone with your first instinct."

"Yes, and hindsight is twenty-twenty," chided Buffy. "It woulda kept me from all kinds of apocalyptic mistakes, mostly Angelus."

"And speaking of that," Bob motioned to the second monitor, "heeeere...it is." With a snap of his pump ridged fingers, the screen sprung to life.

Sledgehammer in hand, Buffy crushed the bones of the Master. Spike, at Parent-Teacher night, boasting his previous slayer victories. Joyce whacking Spike with a fire ax. The Order of Taraka. Kendra and Buffy battling Spike to save Angel. The Judge, along with Spike and Drusilla, resembled at the Factory. Buffy wrapped in Angel's embrace, wreathing on top of him - red sheets shielding their bodies. Destroying the Judge with a rocket launcher. Fighting Angelus - at the mall cineplex, in the burning factory, at the cemetery when she had the flu. Kendra's dead body on the floor of the library. The waking of Acathla. The final image focused on her shoving her sword through Angel's heart, closing the gateway and saving the world.

"Hard, wasn't it?"

"Understatement of eternity," Buffy muttered a bit perturbed. She spied the final monitor flicker to life. "Wait - if one monitor equals a year in my life, why is there only one left?"

"Easily put - after the Angelus fiasco - there's not much left to say," Bob shrugged as the two stepped up to the last screen.

Faith stabbing a vampire in an alley. Angel returning from Hell. The First Evil. Mayor Wilkins III. Watching the poison arrow hit Angel. Fighting with Faith, stabbing her in the gut. Angel drinking from her. Mayor ascending. Sunnydale High blowing up. Angel walking away from her into the smoke. Her first day of college, meeting Riley and Professor Walsh. Joining magically with her friends to defeat Adam. The First Slayer visiting in her dream. Dracula. The monks invoking the spell to hide the Key. Dawn. Glory. Riley leaving in a helicopter. Her mother's death. Her final showdown with Glory, beating her with Thor's hammer. Untying Dawn's restraints, leading Dawn to the stairs. The big finale of her life fixed on the monitor as she leapt into the electrical mass of energy.

"So that's my life," stated Buffy stoically, staring at the frozen image. She shook her head, turning around to eye her guide - patiently waiting for her. "Now what?"

"We go through here," Bob announced, moving away from the back wall to reveal another door. "It's time to see what you left behind."

Pensively, Buffy edged over to the door. With the touch of her hand, the wood door morphed into a swirling vortex of ultraviolet light. Bob grasped her hand comfortingly, than preceded to escort her into the portal. Blinding white light invaded her vision as she felt her essence pulled in unconditionally. Within seconds, the blindness dissipated and Buffy regained her sight. A large green sign with white letter appeared in front of them, reading - 'Welcome to Sunnydale.' Buffy groaned unenthusiastically.

"Welcome home," affirmed Bob cheerfully.

To Be Continued...


	3. Continuation

Chapter 3: Continuation 

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Disclaimer: Joss owns all rights to the Buffy & Angel characters; I don't - exception is 'Bob.'

Spoilers: Season 5 (BtVS). Hints at spoilers for Season 3 (Angel), particularly _Heartthrob_ and _Birthday_.

Summary: Buffy's journey into the 'afterlife' - for Buffy, her Bardo continues. Bob brings her to Sunnydale and Buffy finds out the others have continued on as well.

Author's note: Once I'm done with this series, I'm going to write out the Scooby adventure started here. The idea for it came out of reading the Grimm Brothers' _Little Match Girl_.

Feedback: Please R/R and send it to the email addy above; it would be deeply appreciated.

Status: Finished!

* * *

"What the hell's going on?" fumed Buffy, fixating on the Sunnydale welcome sign. Her guide offered no instant answer to the inquiry, forcing a furious Buffy to spin around to confront him. The massive demon stood perplexed in the middle of the road, surveying the area in deep thought. Buffy lightened a bit, "astral plane to Bob, hello?"

"Damn, maybe it's the next exit," grumbled Bob with a firm headshake, paying her no heed. "Knew I shoulda studied these Sunnydale portal networks more thoroughly. Not like we can simply hop a cab."

"Excuse me," barked Buffy tersely. Bob snapped his attention to her. "Dead woman wanting clarity - this is to see my friends, view how they've dealt - right? Hate to rain on your parade, but I've marched down this road already. Can I pass?"

"Regrettably, there are rules in the transitional process," Bob rebuffed, his patience wearing thin. 

"Fuck the rules! I'm the one who died; I should have some say in what we do," Buffy protested. Bob's armored frame stiffened and his face tensed - mouth pursued and eyes narrowed. He glowered his red beady eyes menacingly at her, a low rumble issued from his throat.

"File a grievance, petition the Powers - whatever you pleases you the most. At the present, I have a schedule to maintain. With all due respect, Ms. Summers, shut it an' walk!" demanded Bob gruffly. Assessing her no-win situation, Buffy begrudgingly conceded. She commenced into town with Bob a few paces behind.

A typical Sunnydale night greeted the duo as they steered onto Main Street. Cars drove pass; pedestrians loitered on corners. Couples mingled outside the Espresso Pump, styrofoam cups of steaming java in hand. Scores of people lined up outside the Sun Cinema box office, awaiting the next show. Kids in cars honked to walking buddies, hollering to meet later at the Bronze. All retail shops were locked up and deserted - with one exception. 

The Magic Box, a 'CLOSED FOR INVENTORY' sign hung in the window, remained a bustle of activity. Approaching the entrance, voices flurried out and shadows danced across the drawn shades. Buffy clutched at the handle - only to have her hand slip through the brass. Undeterred, Buffy repeatedly grabbed at the knob. Bob shook his head wryly; an assumed chuckle escaped his lips.

"A little help wouldn't hurt, y'know," implored Buffy desperately.

"Lemme guess, channeling Patrick Swayze?" the demon guffawed. "We're not ghosts. Getting in is a cinch." Bob ambled forward allowing the glass and wood to swallow him up. Without delay, his bony armored head reemerged to comment, "see, no secret to it - a bit chilly in the crossover, though."

"Oh," grunted Buffy. She trailed behind him, bracing for the onslaught of guilt and anguish that would assault her. As they progressed into the store, none of these sensations materialized. The scene in progress bore no resemblance to her previous encounter.

Willow, Xander, Tara, and Dawn assembled at the research table; stacks of books littered across the top. Tara and Willow held an open leather-bound tome between them, animatingly discussing the contents. Xander rubbed his eyes and constantly checked his watch. Dawn twirled a pencil lackadaisically in her hands. Perched on the nearby ladder, Spike insipidly smoked a cigarette. Giles leaned on the front counter, engaged in a heated debate with Anya. Footsteps echoed loudly from the back. Buffy's mouth dropped as their producer emerged next to Spike, who jumped down and promptly moved across the room.

"Greeting, friends of mine, what's on tap for tonight?" the Buffybot quizzed, prancing over to the group with an enthusiastic grin plastered on her face. She dressed in black leather pants and jacket with a red pullover shirt underneath. Giles dropped his haggling with Anya and focused on the assemblage. Anya rolled her eyes and resumed tallying the daily receipts.

Before the 'bot rudely interrupted, Tara had been explaining their latest case. She wrapped up with, "as I said, all we had to go on was the fountain and the burns."

"I checked with City Hall," Willow chimed in. "The fountain was bequeathed to the Sunnydale Park Services last year by an unlisted benefactor. I scanned some pics and circulated them around on several occult lists. Censuses - things cursed," Willow lectured, holding up a printed copy of an email.

"May I?" Giles requested. Willow handed over the sheets. Giles skimmed the reading, nodding grimly. "Oh my - the fountain lures its victims by promising to grant them their deepest wishes, but offers only death."

"So what's with the burning?" questioned Xander, straightening up in his chair.

"The wish warms their hearts so they burn," replied Anya, not looking up from counting the Magic Box receipts. "The demon's called the Refractor, destroy his power source and you obliterate his ability to cast the wish. Just a guess, but I'd look at the water. It's essential to their survival as is light." Willow whipped around in her seat, throwing a piercing glare at Anya. "Oh, and a spell to disable it temporarily should be listed in 'The Magik of Alchemy.'"

"I spent days researching this," Willow spoke angrily, teeth clenched and hands firmly gripping the back of her chair, "and you never once bothered to mention this."

"You never asked," Anya shot back. Willow's anger mounted; she scowled at the former demon. Giles went to her side and put a steady hand on her shoulder.

"Well," snickered Spike as he grounded his cigarette out in a ceramic urn, "looks like you lot have your hands full than. Terribly sorry, but gotta pass on the burnin' demon tonight - got a prior engagement to attend." He eyed Dawn. "Whadda ya say, lil' bit, up for a rematch? Need to recollect my money, y'know."

"You're teaching her Poker?" lambasted Xander.

"O' course not," countered Spike flippantly, "me an' the bit are playin' Checkers. Ask her yourself." Xander dragged his skepticism to the teenager, who stared at him blankly.

"Yup, just Checkers," affirmed Dawn stoically before Xander could utter another word.

Without warning, time froze. The resulting display brought to Buffy's mind a wax museum exhibit. Bob gently gripped her shoulder, but Buffy roughly shrugged it off. With a flash and pull, they returned to the cottage. Buffy dashed to the massive oak table and sank into one of the high-backed chairs.

"I'm gone - what, a measly two days - and everything's back to normal."

"Ah," interjected Bob delicately, "not two days, try -"

"Fine, a week."

"Uh, nope, a mon-"

"A month?" Buffy rebuked. A week or two she found acceptable, but a month seemed beyond logical.

"The truth is you died one month, two weeks, four days, ten hours, two minutes and thirty-seven seconds...no, forty seconds ago - utilizing Earth time standards."

"You're lying," retaliated Buffy.

"On what basis, because there hasn't been a night? Unless forces of darkness breach security or a level five apocalypse occurs, there won't be. Night fell only once before and it might...um, my point is time moves slowly in the heavens. In hell realms, it speeds up - more torment and suffering for the wretched." Buffy grimaced at his phrasing; Angel had experienced that ordeal and Buffy had been the executioner. "We're thinking about him."

"What, who?" Buffy shot back innocently.

"Angelus." Buffy hurled a dagger-sharp glare at him. Bob nonchalantly added, "Alrighty - Angel, same demon either way. Anyhow, as pleasurable as the prior excursion was, I can't take to him."

"Why not?" fired back Buffy. "I can trip the life fantastic to Sunnydale but L.A. has splintered off into a parallel universe or something?"

"No, merely a waste of time is all - Angel's not there. After Willow kept her promise, he sort of...um, well, let me show you."

Buffy rose from her chair and joined Bob at the last monitor on the left wall. Upon the screen, an exterior shot of the hotel's atrium entrance. Angel and his crew walked up to the lobby doors. Buffy heard Angel's voice as he gleefully tapped open the doors, "there's no place like - Willow?" Her best friend raised her sadden eyes to meet Angel. Beside him, Cordelia choked out, "what's?" Angel, blinking back the welling tears in his dark brown eyes, whispered, "it's Buffy."

Angel, with Cordelia and Wesley in tow, crossed the lobby. Willow embraced the souled vampire, sobbing the sordid details of their battle with Glory into his chest. Wesley and Cordelia offered their sympathies to her and the rest of the Scoobies. Cordelia pressed Angel not to do anything rash; he assured her he wouldn't. With a travel bag slung over his shoulder, Angel sauntered up a loading ramp into a cargo ship at a Los Angeles pier. In a dank corner of the ship's hold, heartbroken and alone - Angel caved into his grief and wept. The monitor fell silent once more.

In search of solace, Angel had fled - like she had three years before. The irony was not lost on Buffy. The circumstances may have vastly differed, Angel playing no role in her demise. She was certain that Angel felt just as guilt - for not being there. Apart for years, their bond persisted. In the last kiss, they couldn't escape the truth.

"We can't go to the ship?"

"Third dimensional access is restricted to fixed locations, unless extenuating circumstances warrant a change. If it's meant to be, you'll be directed when the time comes."

"Lemme guess - don't like it, file a grievance - got it." Buffy folded her arms and sighed. The wooden front door elicited a shrilling creek. "Is this the end of the line or do you have more angst lined up for me?" She observed Bob warmly smile to the newcomer. Buffy gave her guide a puzzled stare.

"You have a visitor," Bob announced. "I'll be back when you're finished. Enjoy the intermission." The demon swiftly brushed by Buffy, exiting through the main entrance. Buffy remained in place, not wishing to unveil whom the mystery guest might be. The visitor spoke with a soft feminine voice Buffy instantly recognized.

"Oh my," the radiant young woman expressed, "Buffy, is it - oh my, you died to spare her, didn't you?"

"Mommy?"

To Be Continued...


	4. Reunion

Chapter 4: Reunion 

* * *

Rating: PG

Disclaimer: Joss owns all rights to the Buffy & Angel characters; I don't.

Spoilers: None, unless you haven't seen Season 5, particularly 'The Body'.

Summary: Buffy's journey into the 'afterlife' - Buffy is reunited with her mother and is able to release some of her anguish over her mother's death.

Feedback: Please R/R and send it to the email addy above; it would be deeply appreciated.

Status: Completed.

* * *

A hush murmured over the room. Buffy shut her eyes as she tiptoed lightly around to face the entrance. The airy feminine voice that had previously spoken had fallen silent. With reluctance, Buffy raised her eyelids to view her guest. Her jaw dropped at the apparition. The vocal tone had equaled her mother's own sound, but little else remained as she had remembered. Buffy scrutinized the other soul, noting each discrepancy.

The young radiant woman, clad in a sleeveless purple robe, had blonde flowing hair in gorgeous thick curls down to the small of her back. White and pink flowers adorned a gold sash wrapped around her waist. The woman's skin was unblemished and remarkably tanned. Like Buffy, she exuded a white glow. Buffy did surmise one similarity, in the young woman's facial features. The wrinkles and tired eyes may have been smoothed over and brightened by heavenly intervention, but the woman whose face she viewed was undeniably her mother.

"Mummy," Buffy reclaimed softly, but with increased conviction. The woman nodded, smiling warmly. Overjoyed, Buffy rushed into the woman's outstretched arms that enclosed her spirit with tenderness and unconditional love.

"Oh, honey," she exhaled in a relieved whisper, "I've been waiting for this opportunity."

"Why didn't come right away?" her daughter inquired, pulling back a tad from her aura. "I-I thought I heard your voice, when I initially entered the light - I heard something. A faint cry, but it was my name...it sounded like you. I thought you'd be here. But there was only this demon - a guide - Bob. Where were you? Why aren't you here with me? Mom?"

"Shhhh," the woman soothed, drawing Buffy back into her. "There's a time and place for everything. First, there's something I have to show you, something just for you."

Her mom relaxed her embrace and permitted Buffy to initiate the parting. Taking Buffy's hand into her own, Joyce led her daughter out of the cabin. A dirt path cropped up for them to travel. It ran along the left side of the cabin and to the back. As they entered the backyard, Buffy shuddered from the chill as her paradise rippled away.

A light blue sky with lavender wispy clouds replaced her indigo one. No mountains or luscious green valley or babbling brook. Instead Buffy found herself amid a labyrinth of hedges that towered over her. Covering the hedges, a plethora of lilacs bloomed in splotches of luminous white and sparkling purple. Along the bottom, flashy red Dragon snaps and sunny yellow Marigolds alternately lined the zigzagging dirt walkway they traversed to the center.

"Here we are," Joyce announced when they reached their destination. Buffy released her mother's hand and stepped out from her shadow. The sight was breathtaking; Buffy stared at the scene, speechless. "I always loved a good work of art."

A magnificent marble fountain, with two meticulously sculpted statues, sat in the heart of the heavily flowered garden. Buffy identified the stately figures to be Greek goddesses - Demeter and Persephone. Pansies, geraniums, chrysanthemums, lilies, gladiola, and hundreds of other species of flowers showered down in colorful gushes, encircling the labyrinth's inner wall. Inlaid square stones accent a walkway around the fountain. Four black granite benches rest next to the fountain's base at key directional points. Sticking up from the rain of flowers, pink cherry blossoms sprinkled on branches of trees. On the far side of the garden, passed the grand water display, Buffy swore she spied a willow tree.

"Come - sit down," Joyce prodded, guiding Buffy across the stones and to the first granite bench. Buffy perched on the left side, angling inward so that she could still observe her mom while they conversed. Joyce took the opposite side and mimicked Buffy's posture. Buffy opened her mouth to speak, but Joyce beat her to it. "I know you have lots of questions, but I'm afraid time is short."

"What?" Buffy grumbled. How could time be short - slow, yes - but short seemed inconceivable? "You only died six months ago."

Joyce patted Buffy's knees tenderly. "I understand you haven't learned much yet and it's not my place to explain. I'm sorry, hon. Bob's an excellent guide."

"You had him, too?"

Joyce chuckled, "of course not, dear. I wasn't a warrior like you, so my passing was mundane. I entered with a multitude of souls through a central location. We did have a guide of sorts - more like an angel. You know like a rotund little cherub."

"Oh, so you're not alone?" Buffy spoke, with a hint of resentment. Her warrior status excluded her from companionship - save from Bob, who'd leave her once his mission was done. However, her mother - an ordinary soul - got to spend eternity with other beings. It was unfair.

"Not initially, but I had by own purchase of heaven - my own world - after we learned the Process."

"Process?"

"Oops, sorry - I shouldn't have said that, your Process is not the same as mine. I thought you knew your fate already; I'm terribly sorry. Let's not waste time comparing our deaths," Joyce clamored to change the subject, nervously eyeing the churning water beside her. She composed herself, than returned her gaze to Buffy. "Wasn't it nice of Brian to send me those flowers? Oh, I liked him. I was so looking forward to another date with him."

"Bry- huh?" Buffy queried, caught off guard with her mother's ramblings of her solitary date prior to her demise. "Oh, right. It's the last thing I remem..." The flowers, sitting in the foyer, had drawn her attention. She'd picked up the accompanying card, read it, than went into the family room - discovering to her horror, Joyce's motionless body. "I'm sorry. If I had only started CPR - not frozen up - when I saw you, I could have..."

Joyce shook her head curtly, "I was gone long before you came home."

"No, no, no - I-I could have saved you. I'm certain I could have. You weren't supposed to die. There was so much left to your life," Buffy pleaded hotly. Joyce continued gazing at her agitated daughter with a calm and collected stance.

"It was my time; no one wants a loved one to go, but even the mother of the Slayer has to step back and allow her daughter room to mature. I knew you'd be okay. You have the best friends any one could hope for, and Rupert - he's a wonderful mentor for you and Dawn."

"You remember Dawn?"

"Vaguely. It's cloudy. When I saw my life, all I could recall was you and your dad. I didn't understand why this young girl suddenly showed up - it was confusing. But than it came back to me. She was the Key and needed your protection. Everything you've done for her has been for the best - even if it seemed harsh. The Resurrection spell she cast would have worked, you know. It wouldn't have truly been 'me' because the spell alters a soul's make-up, twists it - darkens its color. Luckily, you convinced her to take the correct course of action. You did your best; I trust you're friends will do the same for her also."

"Actually Spike's watching over her. At least that's what I gleamed from the little snippet I saw acted out at the Magic Box between them."

"Unnerving as it sounds, I think Spike's doing the right thing. He took good care of us while we were in his charge - I felt safe with him. I don't think he would let any harm come to her."

"Neither would Angel," snapped Buffy bitterly. "I'm not sure Spike's intention are exactly pure. He is still a vampire - even with the chip; I can't forget what he is. And neither should Dawn."

"So's Angel," countered her mother. Buffy tensed up, preparing to defend her ex-lover. Joyce cut her off, "Either one is capable of letting his inner demon get the best of him. However, I don't want to exhaust my last shreds of time quarreling over vampires with you - we did enough of over the past couple years."

"Neither do I," Buffy agreed, releasing her anger and regaining peace.

A black crow swept in from above and landed on the statue of Persephone. Buffy twisted her upper body to observe the bird as it's 'caw, caw, caw' screeched through the stillness. Joyce's smile faded to a frown.

"Oh, darn - I'm sorry, dear. I have to go," she declared.

"No, you - we just got here. It can't be over; we need more-," Buffy stammered, "I haven't told you about your funeral or-"

"I saw it; you did good. Exceptionally well under the circumstances. You held everything together. I'm proud of you - I'll always be. Good-bye, my dear sweet little girl." Her mom rose from the bench with Buffy following suit. She rapidly embraced her daughter for the last time. Into Buffy's ear, her mother whispered, "take the garden, it's yours - think of me always."

"Good-bye, mom, good-bye," Buffy sobbed into her mother's radiant shoulder. "I've wanted to say that since..." Before she completed her declaration, Joyce's apparition dissolved into a column of white smoke. The crow cawed again and the smoke traveled to the bird's cry. The bird opened its black beak, inhaling the smoke swiftly. It cawed, than fluttered out the way it had entered. 

Buffy stared sorrowfully at the retreating crow, barely noticing the sky change back to indigo. When she brought her eyes back down to the ground, the front door of the cabin greeted her. The garden wiped away. 

To Be Continued...


	5. Shinje-ment Day

A Slayer's Samsara Chapter 5: Shinje-ment 

Rating: PG

Disclaimer: Joss owns all rights to the Buffy & Angel characters; I don't.

Summary: Buffy's journey into the 'afterlife' - Today is judgement day.

Author's note: Shinje is the 'Judge of the Dead' in Tibetan lore. 

Feedback: Please R/R and send it to the email addy above; it would be deeply appreciated.

* * *

"Hey, welcome back," boomed her escort's cheery voice, causing Buffy to jump.

"Bob! I wasn't expecting - " Buffy turned to face him.

"Yah - I know, but since you ran a bit late..."

"Late?" exclaimed Buffy. "That was like a few drops of water in the eternity bucket - what gives? First it slowed down, now it speeds up. Lemme guess - next will do the Hokey-Pokey and turn itself around?"

"Re: time differential - each dimension has it's own idiosyncrasies. Your mom was in one that ran a few parsecs out of sync with us. Totally my bad for not pulling you out earlier. Whatcha think of the crow - nice touch, eh?" 

"Sure, whatever. Can we fast forward to the 'why-I'm-here' part?" Bob tossed Buffy his most irritated glare so far; Buffy gloated silently - irking this tough-yet-gentle giant was proving to be quite satisfying. He had Giles' temperament Buffy noted fondly.

"Another guest. Inside. Waiting a while. Gonna go out on a limb and say tabling the sarcasm would be highly recommended."

"What's the sinch with *this* guy?"

"Shinje."

"Bless you."

"No, he's the Shinje." Buffy folded her arms and shrugged her shoulders. "Big Pooh-bah to the Powers?" She shook her head. "Okay, Judge of the Dead ringing any bells for ya?"

"Judge? Assuming he's not burly and blue with a burning humanity sucking touch, right?"

"Ah, no." Bob rolled his eyes. "The Shinje issues proclamations to the Powers, who in turn will decide your ultimate fate. You know, whether you go back as a slayer or a normal girl kind of thing? I'm not a betting demon but I'd place money on the 'slayer' square and so should you."

"Reborn? Oh, no way - I don't think so," Buffy riled. "How can I put this - I'm done. Through. Finished. Ka-put. Over. One life was enough - thank you."

"Ah, once?" chortled Bob. "This isn't your first round - not by a long shot, sister." 

"Not that I'm burning with hellacious desire or anything, but how many times have we done this conversation?"

"Luckily for me, this is a first. However, there were three previous lives; and in each one, you were that generation's Slayer. The Council of Watchers has a whole department devoted to keeping tabs on slayers' reincarnations. There's signs and charts and chanting - a lot of chanting - totally big on that ancient Sumerian chanting. Anyhoo, it's kinda like how the Tibetans find the next Dalai Lama although they're amateurs, dealing with one entity. At last count, the Council had over thirty or so."

"The Process," she affirmed with nod. "That's what my mom was trying to explain."

"In a nutshell. What she couldn't enlighten you to was how rare and resilient your soul truly is. It's bonded to another; therefore it has a slew of complicated issues." 

"Complicated issues," parroted Buffy. "This dying thing is getting overly complex itself. I wasn't supposed to get a handbook or instruction manual - like 'An Idiot's Guide to the Afterlife' or 'Reincarnation for Dummies' - when I passed into this realm, was I? And - who exactly am I bonded to?"

"I can't elaborate," Bob solemnly replied. "Not in my job description. Though when your judgment's concluded, the Powers will provide you with the entire saga - a full-uncensored directors-cut version probably. Meanwhile, I hate to rush but the Shinje is not a patient entity. You bettah beat your feet into the cabin, post haste - before he sentences you to a pit of frozen ice in the bottom tier of Hell. By-the-by, that's actually something Dante nailed right on the head."

"Pit of ice, huh?" Buffy quivered, shuffling towards the cabin door timidly. "Well, this is, um, me - going. Now." 

Buffy dashed the brief distance to the wooden door. Before Buffy could touch the brass knob, a strange force twisted it and swung the door majestically open. She continued into the cabin without breaking her stride. At the table's right end, the Shinje sat stoically. His appearance took her my surprise; she had been expected another demon. Instead the Shinje's guise was an elderly Asian man. He was bald but had a floor-length well-groomed white goatee. A red robe with an orange sash dwarfed his diminutive body. No greeting was made; the Shinje's attention focused squarely on the empty chair across from him.

Buffy crossed expediently to her seat, meeting his eyes - or lack of, she eerily noted. His eyes were void of any color sans white. With a slight gesture, his bony fingers with slender long manicured nails rested on the varnished top. 

"Miss Bah-ffy Sah-mers?" he wheezed, hissing her name.

"Ah-huh," she eked out, stifling the smirk she felt burbling up inside. The afterlife hadn't been the peace she'd hoped it would be, no sense pissing off the right-hand man to the Gods. The hell Bob had described didn't really sound like Holiday on Ice. "You're the Shingy, right?"

He cringed at her mispronunciation, but made no correction. Lifting up his left hand, he permitted Buffy to observe the black and white pebbles he'd concealed underneath. The Shinje lithely scooped them up, quickly shook them then scattered the stones randomly back onto the table with pelting ricochet. Each stone had a unique symbol craved into it. Buffy deduced the symbols to be Chinese; she'd seen similar ones on the menus and take-out container for the Sunnydale Chinese Restaurant. 

"What do those do?"

"'Few-char' Stones - they prah-dich-tors," he rasped, his façade unchanged by Buffy's feeble stab at humor.

"Few-char? Few. Char," Buffy reiterated slowly, mulling the sounds over in her mind. What was a 'few-char' and what did it have in common with the accompanying phrase? Than it hit her - boy, did she feel low - not two words, one. Future Stones that predicted - how 'duh' worthy that little revelation was. "Telling my fortune? Why not."

He sneered at her, bearing his crocked yellow-tainted teeth to her. "You think you know ah-vah-ree thing. Bah, you dunno. Hmmmm. The Stones - they had sah-prizes for you. Few-char clouded. Your 'ah-ther' soul is dead. World turmoil. Tor-char. Guilt. Sah-ffering."

"Surprises - I'm going to be another slayer? I guess I get the same line every lifetime, right?" sighed Buffy in disappointment. Even her bonded soul mate was dead, according to this entity. Besides that wouldn't help her any ways - she didn't have any clue to who she was bonded in the first place. "Can't I just put in a resignation or something? Say I'm exhausted, can I go to Nirvana or whatever the roller coaster of existence recycling gets off?"

"Sigh-lence. Shinje has spoken. Few-char told. Good luck, Miss Bah-ffy Sah-mers," he announced firmly. His cool demeanor breaking as he chuckled, "you going ta need it."

The Shinje evaporated away as his crackled laughter echoed off the walls. Buffy stared at the Stones, absorbing her cryptic fate. Four lives out of what - nine like a cat? Or perhaps the next one would be the charm and open the door to eternal rest. Buffy gathered herself up and decided that a walk out in the valley might clear her jumbled thoughts.

She stiffly lumbered to the door, creaking it apart from the wall. With her attention inward, Buffy - head down - strode into the warm outdoors. A breeze brushed grains of sand against her cheeks, which she flicked away absently. Slowly, she realized her white dress had shifted to a tan flowery sundress. The landscape stirred a dreamy sense of déjà vu; she'd fought the First Slayer here.

"Welcome back," commented a soft feminine voice beside her. Buffy eyed her new companion suspiciously.

"Borrowed again?"

An image of Tara, clad in the same red attire as before, beamed a glowing smile and simply nodded.

"Is the First Slayer here too? 'Cuz I need to pass along my thanks for the whole 'death is my gift' revelation. I never woulda gotten that on my own." Tara smiled faded.

"Oh, I'm sorry - you misinterpreted."

"Huh? I don't think so. See, she said my gift to the world was death. Thus, death is my gift."

"You asked if you were losing your ability to love - if being the Slayer was making you cold and heartless. The Spirit Guide answered you couldn't lose that ability since the Slayer is full of love. Your love for humanity and life is displayed nightly in the death that you bring to the forces of darkness. Thus death of evil creatures is your gift."

"Oh," mumbled Buffy timidly, "so I gave my life for nothing than?"

"No, not at all. It just wasn't destined to happen on that particular night, but even the most well conceived prophecies fall apart from time to time. Don't worry the Powers have a way to fix this and will fill you in when you gain an audience with them."

"Just when will that be? Keep hearing about these omnipotent ones, but lacking any visual yet." 

"Your final journey lies ahead. Everything you ever wanted to know...where you came from, what you are. All that has passed is about to be shown. Are you ready?"

"Yes," Buffy affirmed. 

With her reply, Tara and the heavens fell into darkness. In a white flash of light, a spacious stone rotunda materialized. Four arched entryways led into the room. From one of the entrances, a magnificent figure emerged and marched across the floor. Buffy followed him with her eyes. He genuflected in the center as a chorus of disembodied voices praised him for a hunt most well done. 

The voices chattered on as Buffy unsteadily stepped to the man. There was something familiar about him, something that tugged at her soul. His face came into view; Buffy jumped back in shock. It couldn't be - it was impossible, wasn't it? Buffy stood - mouth agape - staring at the visage of her former lover. Well not *exactly* his - the one before her was even more perfect - more handsome - purely angelic. 

He smiled back and took her hand. Buffy was powerless, grasping for words she couldn't form. What was happening? Where was she? Her soul demanded answers and she was about to get them very soon.

To Be Continued...


End file.
